


no love (for a liar)

by Buttercup_ghost



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Dubious Morality, F/F, Hurt No Comfort, One-Sided Relationship, Unhealthy Relationships, Unrequited Love, i guess??? ?, yeah that's probably. Applicable here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-27
Updated: 2018-02-27
Packaged: 2019-03-11 16:37:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13528272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Buttercup_ghost/pseuds/Buttercup_ghost
Summary: Alfred Lord said it is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.Celestia ludenburg says that'sbullshit.





	no love (for a liar)

It's spiteful. The whole affair is dyed in bitterness, to her, like the taste of a coffee bean on her tongue. She hates it; this life, like a knife, cutting down the fools who do not make it. It's a world of survival, out there, and she knows it. The big dog eats the little one, every man for themselves. People will only appear to be on your side, if they have something to gain. If the opertionity came, they'd stab you in the back, if it meant they'd get ahead. It was barbaric. It was cruel.

It was capitalism.

The fault of men, everywhere, she mused, was that they were selfish. There was enough food in the world, and enough money—for it is only a piece of printed paper, only given value by our minds—for everyone to eat, and live healthily. And yet, there was still people dying on the streets.

No matter how much the world pretched about love, it was clear such a thing was conditional. 

She was no different, of course. She would never claim to be selfless. She knew she was selfish, just like she knew that everyone else in this rotten world was, too. It was a fact she had come to accept, and live by. Maybe her lack of ignorance made her better than most people, living without a care in the world, or maybe it made her worse. She didn't lift a finger to help those around her, after all. 

Because she was selfish.

Even her, so coated in lies, could not fabricate human nature. It was basic instinct, something in her telling her to survive, to live, to make something out of her life. To make sure she's set for life.

To take.

Take up space, take up resources, take up time. 

You can't live without hurting somebody else, after all. She knew this; if anyone had said, that, they in their whole lifetime had never caused another distress, they'd be lying. It was the nature of having a ego, a personality. So, rather than moping around, she accepted it. 

She lived.

It was easy, really. It wasn't like she hated people (some, yes, with their petty annoyances and their hypocritical words, she wishes she could just set them on fire) but it wasn't like she'd chose them, over herself, either. She wouldn't go out of her way to harm another, of course, but it was a simple matter of princeible; if they were blocking her path, she'd move them. Even if that meant shoving, sometimes.

She wasn't underhanded, persay, despite what people say. She just did what was nessesary, for her self preservation. And if it was for that, then she wouldn't mind using underhanded means.

There was no honor to be found in life, after all.

Maybe that's why she was so good at gambling. She'd never cheat, or do anything illegal—that was more trouble than it was work—but she wouldn't hesitate to manipulate, either.

People, for all intensive purposes, clung to their pride. They wouldn't do things to assure victory if it compromised that. If it meant they had to embarrass themselves, they'd refuse.

Pride meant nothing if it got you killed.

 

 

 

Junko understood.

In some ways, she felt like she understood everything, far more than herself, even. It felt like, with the slightest slip, all her truths would be revealed to this girl. She'd figure them out, far to fast. 

"Boring."

Junko really was a mystery to her, in a lot of ways. She wasn't sure what made her tick, and whenever she thought she did, junko would reveal something more about her that left the liar in a tizzy. At first, she had just written her off as some egotistical, annoying fashion model, but she knew now that wasn't the case. She saw it, how she could read a situation, and know exactly what to do, know exactly what to do to get what she wanted. 

She didn't like not knowing everything. But for that very same reason, it drew her in.

Celestia really wanted to understand.

 

 

 

Junkos lips tasted like rust and strawberries, the mix of blood and her lipstick lingering on her tongue. It's fitting, in an odd way. It's her first kiss, she thinks, idly. 

Junko bites into her tongue. _Hard_.

It hurts.

 

 

She thought of her all the time. It was annoying, really, this crush of hers—because it couldn't be love, not with her, not Celeste—getting in the way of even her dream. She knew it was pointless, anyways—she knew, that nothing would come of it. Junko didn't care about her, no matter how many kisses she gave, the blood on her tongue all the answer she needs. She just liked seeing her squirm, in pain.

And yet she didn't stop the girl from drawing near her everytime, placing her lips onto hers.

It was a doomed afair from the start.

 

 

"You know I could never love a girl like you, right?" Junko smiles, as if she said something pleasant, had remarked on what a beautiful day it is, or talked about her favorite food.  

"Who says I'm looking for love?" She smiles right back, but junko just smirks.

"You're not; because you're already in love," so smug, so certain, "aren't you?"

Celestia doesn't answer.

 

 

She couldn't love, really. She shouldn't. And yet, she feels junkos lips on her own whenever she goes to sleep at night, dreaming of a different world, where things could be different.

 _Oh_ , she realizes, _I've been lying to myself this whole time._

The problem never was her being unable to love, only being unlovable.

 

 

Somehow, she still manages to feel like she lost something, like she's been betrayed, a hollow feeling in her chest, when junko presses a syringe against her neck.

She would wish she never met her, but it seems that she'll forget her soon, anyways.

She barely manages to have the presence of mind to think, _good_.

 

 

 

(A part of her wondered if they could have ruled the world together, if she had just loved her too.)

(The rest of her sway in the flames, without remembering, before the force of this love hit her like a truck.)

 


End file.
